


hey holy roller

by landfill_lady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Good Place (TV) Fusion, F/M, salt queen sansa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landfill_lady/pseuds/landfill_lady
Summary: Boss-shanking, twin-fucking Jaime Lannister, in Heaven? This can only mean one thing:Someone hasroyallyforked up.





	1. Everything is Fine

**Author's Note:**

> i'm still truckin' away at all of my other wips, but i've been having a pretty crappy month, and this idea makes me happy. so this is more-or-less a distress tolerance mechanism in the form of crossover fic i guess?
> 
>  
> 
> title from ["the good the bad and the dirty"](https://youtu.be/Nu55xS1TdoU) by panic! at the disco (because it seemed appropriate, and is also such a fuckin jaime track i can't even express it in words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update 4/30: after long weeks of reflection and soul-searching, i have discovered that i... am someone who really hates writing fic in the past tense. i'm updating chapters 1 & 2 now, and all future installments will be written in present tense. i apologize if you have contradictory grammar preferences, but ultimately, i need to be true to myself 

Jaime wakes to a golden light filtering through his eyelids. He is enveloped in a feeling of pure warmth, happiness, and comfort.

Gradually, he opens his eyes.

_Welcome! Everything is fine_ , the wall tells him.

 Jaime believes it. A wall has no reason to lie to him; certainly not in such a friendly green sans-serif font. And the feeling of bone-deep rightness resonating through him brooks no argument.

 Lazily, he surveys the room around him.

 He's sitting on a sofa - although to call the surface on which Jaime currently rests a “sofa” is a bastardization of the English language as egregious as calling the Hope Diamond a “big shiny stone” _._ Jaime has attained _couch nirvana_.

 Aside from the frankly sinful sofa, and the cheery writing on the wall in front of him, he appears to be in a relatively average waiting room.

 Just as he is beginning to wonder whether there is something he's meant to be doing here, a door swings open down the hall to his left.

 “Mr. Lannister?” a young man in a wheelchair asks, peering out from behind it. The boy gestured towards the room behind him, smiling tranquilly. “Would you like to come in?”

 Jaime nods; it seems expected of him.

 Then, he realizes he was still sitting, and follows the boy through the door.

 They emerge into a large, well-appointed office. Its centerpiece is a low mahogany desk behind which the boy has positioned himself, hands folded in front of him.

 There is a sturdy-looking armchair in front of it, towards which he motions Jaime.

 Jaime sits obediently.

 “It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Lannister,” the boy says, in a clear, disconcertingly low voice. “I am the Raven.”

 “Nice to meet you too,” Jaime says awkwardly. “Erm… Where are we? And why am I here?”

"You are dead.” The Raven smiles, but his monotone voice gives the pronouncement an eerily somber tone.

“Oh,” Jamie says, to disguise his mounting panic.

 The Raven's disconcerting smile widens. “Welcome to the afterlife!”

 Unsure of how to respond appropriately to this pronouncement, Jaime pauses for a moment, thinking frantically.

 Finally, he settles on, “Can I ask, is this–” he pointed his finger upwards– “or, y’know…” A vague gesture in the opposite direction.

“This is The Good Place.” Another close-lipped smile graces the Raven’s unnaturally placid face. “Congratulations, Jaime! You made it.”

“Great,” Jaime enthuses, trying to keep his thoughts from bleeding onto his face.

Boss-shanking, twin-fucking Jaime Lannister, in Heaven? This can only mean one thing:

Someone has  _royally_ fucked up.


	2. Samwell Tarly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"It's perfect, isn't it?" the Raven asked, smiling. "Here, every person lives in a home which perfectly reflects their essence."_
> 
>  
> 
> _"Cool," Jaime said slowly. "So that's why my home, for example, is a cute little cabin, while another person might have a literal giant castle._  
>  _Like that one."_
> 
>  
> 
> (See end-of-chapter notes for content warnings)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to spend another day or two editing this chapter a bit more, but i'm having a bit of a weird night, so i'm uploading what i've got for ~instant validation~. come @ me.  
>   
> also, this fic's word count is no longer 420. a moment of silence, please.
> 
> **
> 
> edited for tense on 4/30

“I have a couple more questions.”

“I’d imagine so,” the Raven says mildly. “Please, ask away.”

“How did I die? I can't seem to remember.”

The Raven nods. “In cases of embarrassing or traumatic deaths, we erase the memory in order to facilitate a more peaceful transition to the afterlife. Are you sure you’d like me to tell you?”

Jaime hesitates, thinking back on some of his more embarrassing and traumatic moments. “On second thought, I think I’m alright.”

“A wise choice. Anything else?”

“Well... who got it right?” Jaime asks, unable to resist. “The Ironborn, the Sparrows, the Church of the Creepy-faced– who was right about, y’know, everything?”

“Most religions got about five percent. Except for the followers of the Many-Faced God, obviously; the existence of an eternal afterlife sort of flies in the face of their entire system of belief. And Samwell Tarly, of course.”

“Samwell Tarly?”

“A college student in the early 2000s. One night, Sam ate three pot brownies by accident, and his best friend Jon said, “Hey, what d’you think happens after we die?”. Sam launched into a two-hour monologue in which he got close to ninety-one percent correct. We could hardly believe what we were hearing. 

"I have a picture of him here,” the Raven says proudly, gesturing to a framed photograph of a portly young man in an ill-fitting black sweatshirt hanging above his desk. “He’s quite famous, in these parts. I’m lucky to own it.”

“...Neat,” Jaime says, unsure of how exactly to react. “I have one last question. How does this - the Good Place, I mean  - work?”

“Well, it’s not the heaven-or-hells idea you were raised on,” the Raven says. “But generally speaking, there are two sections of the afterlife: the Good Place and the Bad Place. Everyone in the Good Place was, simply put, a very good person. During a person’s life, every one of their actions has a positive or a negative score. These scores are calculated based on how much good, or how much bad, those actions put out into the world.”

Internally, Jaime cringes.

“Once an individual’s time on earth has ended, we calculate the total value of their points here in the Afterlife. Only those people with the very highest scores –the cream of the crop, if you will– are brought here, to the Good Place.”

“What happens to everyone else?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” the Raven says, waving a hand dismissively. “The point is, Jaime, you are here because you lived one of the very best lives that could be lived. Now you've come to your reward: eternal happiness! But enough talk - would you like to see your new home?"

Jaime nods; it seemed expected of him again. The Raven leads him out of the building and onto the streets of a small, cheerful town.

It's a clear fall day - crisp, jewel-toned leaves blew through the streets, carried to and fro by a brisk breeze. Frost crackles beneath Jaime's loafers.

"Is all of the Good Place this cold?" he asks, tucking his cold hands into his armpits as he walks.

The Raven shakes his head, not taking his eyes off the sidewalk. "No, not at all. The Good Place is subdivided into a number of different neighborhoods, each designed to be a perfect microcosm for its residents. Each neighborhood is different - some are cities, some forests. One or two are Disneyland. Some neighborhoods are always summer, and some always winter - others," he finished, punctuating the remark with a sweep of his arm, "always the middle of November."

"Do they all have this many pizza places?" Jaime asks, glancing around.

The Raven shrugs. "People love pizza."

On that oddly philosophical note, he falls silent, and they travel quietly for some minutes.

Eventually, Jaime breaks. "So, who is in the Bad Place that would shock me?"

"Ah. Marillion, Galyeon, Bael the Bard... most musicians. And almost every Westerosi politician besides Ned Stark."

"That sounds about right. What about Queen Alysanne?"

The Raven shakes his head. "That was close, but no; she didn't make it."

"Really?"

The Raven shrugs again. "It's a quite selective system. Most people don't make it here. But you - a human rights campaigner who fought tirelessly for the rights of the disenfranchised - you're special, Jaime.

"And on that note - welcome to your new home."

The Raven inclines his head towards the building across from them - a one-story wooden cabin, with a small vegetable garden to one side.

"It's perfect, isn't it?" he asks, smiling. "Here, every person lives in a home which perfectly reflects their essence."

"Cool," Jaime says slowly. "So that's why my home, for example, is a cute little cabin, while another person might have a literal giant castle. Like that one."

He gestures casually towards the towering grey château to their right.

"Exactly right. I'm so happy you get it." The Raven snaps his fingers, and the red paneled door flies open in front of them. "Would you like to see the inside?"

Jaime suspects he had little choice; he followes the Raven in, suppressing a jump when the door closes again behind him.

"As you can see, the cabin has been furnished exactly to your tastes, in the Greywater naturalist style. And of course, you adore jesters, so-"

The Raven points one spindly arm towards a truly horrifying painting of a patch-faced man in motley which hangs in a place of honor directly over the fireplace. Jaime will have to see it any time he enters or leaves the room.

He forces himself to grin. "I  _do_ love jesters."

"I know," the Raven says, a bit smugly. "But enough - you'll have plenty of time to explore your house on your own. For now, there's someone I'd like you to meet. Brienne!" he adds, raising his voice. "You can come in now."

The cabin door shoots back open to reveal the tallest, most ungainly woman Jaime had ever seen. Her large grin exposes two rows of large, crooked teeth.

"Hello, soulmate! It's nice to finally meet you."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter cws:  
> mention of recreational drug use (marijuana/edibles)  
> if you'd like to avoid this content, stop reading after "system of belief." and skip to "...Nice"


	3. The Direwolf Has Two Mouths!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The blonde hulk looks crestfallen. For a second, Jaime almost feels bad for her._
> 
> _Then, she says, "Perhaps it's a test. If you tell the Raven the truth, you'll pass, and he'll let you stay here," and Jaime's sympathy evaporates._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some dialog taken/paraphrased from episode 1 of tgp - if you've seen it, you'll recognize the lines i've lifted.  
> (sorry this chapter is so short - i'm partway through finals week, but i figured a short chapter was better than none at all)

"It's so wonderful to finally meet you," the woman enthuses.

"Yeah, absolutely. Um... bring it in?" Jaime says uncertainly, holding his arms open for a hug.

The woman's firm muscles make the embrace a bit uncomfortable, as does the sheer sense of  _what-the-fuck_ currently freezing Jaime's brain.

When he pulls back, the woman's still staring at him, her cow eyes shining with emotion. 

"Please excuse me; I have other matters to attend to as you get to know each other," the Raven says, wheeling himself towards the door. It shuts behind him with a  _click._

After a moment of awkward silence, Jaime motions the woman towards his couch. Once they've both sat, she begins rambling nervously.

"I can't believe we've finally met, Jaime - may I call you Jaime? I'm Brienne, Brienne Tarth. I never thought I'd have a soulmate, especially not one so..." She trails off, blushing. "At any rate, I spent my whole life asking questions about the universe: life, love, morals, the meaning of it all. And now we'll have eternity to find the answers - together."

Jaime exhales, thinking. "Brienne. Will you stand by me, and support me, no matter what?"

"Of course," she says solemnly.

"Swear it to me. Say, out loud, ' _I swear on my honor that I will never betray you.'_ "

She places one large, chapped hand over her heart. "Jaime, I swear to you, on my honor, that I will never do anything to betray you or intentionally cause you harm."

“Great. Because I wasn’t a lawyer, I certainly wasn’t a human rights campaigner, and I hate jesters with a burning passion. There’s been a big mistake - I think I’m in the wrong place.”

"Are you certain?" Jaime's fauxmate asks, frowning.

"Yeah, pretty forking certain." Jaime frowns. "Pretty forking- no,  _forking-_ "

"You can't swear here, if that's what you're trying to do," she says faintly. "It upsets some of the neighborhood's residents, so the Raven's banned it."

"Well, _that_ sucks shirt."

"Perhaps a bit. Jaime, are you absolutely  _sure_ you aren't meant to be here?"

He nods. "The Raven had my name right, but that's just about the only thing he's said that matches me. Plus, no offense, but if soulmates are real, I know who mine is. And she's... not you."

The blonde hulk looks crestfallen. For a second, Jaime almost feels bad for her.

Then, she says, "Perhaps it's a test. If you tell the Raven the truth, you'll pass, and he'll let you stay here," and Jaime's sympathy evaporates.

"Absolutely not. What if he sends me to the Bad Place?"

"Maybe it's not so bad there," she says unconvincingly.

Jaime shoots her a Look.

She bites her lip. "There's always a chance, isn't there? Let's at least get some information. Leaf!"

With a  _pop,_  a small treelike creature appears in the middle of the room.

Jaime starts back in his seat. " _What the fork is that?_ "

The edges of the creature's barklike mouth curve up into a customer-services smile. "Hello, Jaime. I am Leaf, the Raven's assistant. I assist the neighborhood's residents in obtaining any materials or information they require. Is there something I can help you with today?"

"Leaf, what is the Bad Place like?" the blonde woman asks. Leaf frowns.

"Unfortunately, I'm forbidden from giving out information about the Bad Place. But I can play you a small sound clip from one of its neighborhoods, if you like."

"That would be lovely."

The tree-thing opens its mouth, and Jaime's cabin fills with horrific screams.

Jaime makes out one hoarse voice shrieking,  _"Seven save us! The direwolf has two mouths!"_ before her mouth closes with a snap, and the room returns to blessed silence.

"Thank you, Leaf, Jaime's fauxmate says faintly. "You may go."

With another  _pop_ , the tree-creature disappears.

"Well, it doesn't sound great," Jaime says acidly.

"I don't think I can do this," the woman says, worrying her lip.

"You have to," he says desperately. "You swore to me."

The woman frowns deeply; evidently, her word is important to her. Seven be praised. 

When she continues to frown, Jaime sighs. "Look, you must have told a white lie or two before. I mean, what did you do for a living?"

"I was a professor of medieval history and chivalric ethics."

"Well, _shirt_."

Just as she opens her mouth to respond, there's a rap at the door. They both freeze.

After a moment, the rap repeats itself.

"Look, can we table this discussion for now?" Jaime asks, gesturing to the door.

She nods reluctantly, and he crosses to front of the room.  

He opens the door to reveal a stylish redheaded woman and a towering man with an impressive set of facial burn scars. 

"Mr. Lannister?" the woman asks, smiling brightly. Jaime nods stiffly. "How lovely! We're your new neighbors. May we come in?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and finally, the secondary otp rear their heads! sansa & sandor'll have a much larger part in the next chapter - get hyped!


	4. The Odd Couple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"What a bench," Jaime says flatly, as soon as he and Brienne are alone again._
> 
> _Brienne stares at him flatly. "Miss Stark? She's a lovely woman; I consider her one of my best friends in the neighborhood. I admire her immensely."_
> 
> _Jaime shrugs. "All I'm saying is, I know that look in her eyes. And it is the look of a cold, calculating_ bundt _."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back, guys! sorry this took me so long! life is taking a big ol' dump on me lately, but the next chapter should be up pretty soon, and will hopefully be a bit longer than this one!  
> also, if you like the way i write got, consider checking out _[the songs unsung, the tales untold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787314)_ , which is a bunch of got/asoiaf fic snippets (mostly tv/movie aus cos i'm traaash). if you like any of them, please comment! i might consider turning some of them into longer works.

The two people standing before Jaime might be the least plausible couple he's ever seen. The one thing they have in common is their height: in her stilettos, the woman is only a head shorter than Jaime's soulmate, while the man outstrips her entirely. Other than that, though, they're completely mismatched.

The woman is pale and slender, elegant in a fitted black peacoat and a pair of stilettos. Her polished red updo reminds Jaime of Cersei's intricate braids. The musclebound man hulking behind her could not resemble her less. A large web of scars covers one side of his face, partially obscured by the mass of lank brown hair hanging down to his shoulders. A faded wool coat covers his coarse brown robes.

Jaime's attention is piqued by the man's scars, but the man catches his look, and his dark eyes bore into Jaime's. The uncomfortable moment is broken when the woman opens her mouth.

"May we come in?" The question is both perfectly innocent, and perfectly calculated to imply that Jaime has been rude in allowing her to wait for so long already.

Jaime flashes her a facsimile of a smile. He knows this game. "Oh, of course. You should have asked sooner. May I offer you anything?"

"Oh, no, thank you," the woman says airily, sweeping past him into his house. Burn Victim slouches in behind her as she very obviously gives Jaime's cabin a once-over.

She visibly brightens when she sees Brienne on the couch, and hurries over to kiss her on both cheeks. 

"My darling! How  _are_ you?"

Brienne gives her a small, worried smile, which the woman seems to interpret as an adequate response.

She turns back to Jaime, her smile sharply polite.

"Thank you so much for inviting us in; we're sorry to stop by so abruptly."  _You don't seem sorry,_ Jaime thinks uncharitably. "It's so nice to meet you, Mr. Lannister - I'm Sansa Stark, and this is my soulmate, Brother Sandor." The hulking man inclines his head. "We're your next-door neighbors," she adds, gesturing out Jaime's window to the sprawling grey castle next door. "We thought we'd come by to introduce ourselves. I dohope we aren't intruding." Once Sansa's finished her little speech, she motions pointedly to Brother Sandor, and he stomps over to Jaime's coffee table and sets out a planter filled with blue roses.

"A welcome gift, from our glass gardens," Sansa says, smiling. "We thought you might like a plant, to brighten up the place."

"How kind of you."

She shakes her head regally. "Oh, it was nothing; we have plenty."

"I assume the flowers were Miss Stark's choice?" Jaime asks drily, looking pointedly at Brother Sandor's glazed expression. The monk shrugs silently.

"My soulmate took a vow of silence during his monkhood, which he's chosen to continue to uphold, even in death," Sansa says with a brittle grin. "He responds to most questions by nodding, shrugging, or shaking his head. We thank you for your understanding."

"Oh, of  _course,_ " Jaime says magnanimously. 

"But I'm sorry, I've gone off-topic," Sansa says, smiling self-effacingly. "Sandor and I are throwing a little  _fête_ tonight, to welcome all of the neighborhood's new arrivals. We came to invite you both."

"How kind of you," Jaime exclaims falsely. "We'll be sure to come."

"Brilliant," Sansa says, smiling. "Oh, before we go - You'll find that time doesn't work quite the same here as you're used to. Just head over when you hear the fireworks mixed with Tchaikovsky."

"Thanks  _so_ much for the tip," Jaime says, through gritted teeth. "Now, I'm sure you still have so much to do before the party starts."

Sansa takes the hint, and leaves, gigantic soulmate in tow.

"What a bench," Jaime says flatly as soon as he and Brienne are alone again. 

Brienne stares at him flatly. "Miss Stark? She's a lovely woman; I consider her one of my best friends in the neighborhood. I admire her immensely."

Jaime shrugs. "All I'm saying is, I know that look in her eyes. And it is the look of a cold, calculating _bundt_."

Her fat lips purse in disapproval. "You know what, I think I've made my decision. You  _are_ meant for the Bad Place. I need to speak with the Raven."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jaime holds his hands up, pacifying. " Tell you what - let's go to this stupid soirée. It'll give you the evening to think, and me some time to prove I'm not as much of a trashbag as you think." He flashes his soulmate a sparkling grin. "Chin up, Brian. What's one more evening in the face of eternity?"

**Author's Note:**

> updates should be up within the week; ch. 2 is as yet unfinished, but i have the whole fic plotted out (a rarity for me!) so it should be relatively speedy. 
> 
> if you like this so far, consider dropping me a comment, or messaging me [on tumblr](https://landfill--lady.tumblr.com/) \- it really makes my day, especially when i'm feeling kinda crappy!


End file.
